


Ars Amatoria

by spoilersweetie



Series: Amor Vincit Omnia [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Amor Vincit Omnia, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 03:57:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1373026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoilersweetie/pseuds/spoilersweetie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little pointless 'deleted scene' from my fic Amor Vincit Omnia. To keep you all going through its hiatus :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ars Amatoria

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiii!!! So yes, Amor is still on hiatus and I'm supposed to be on fic ban until my uni work for the semester is handed in buuuuut I MISSED IT SO MUCH. You don't even knowww how much I am missing writing that story, I miss my empress and I miss my Doctor anddd I caved and had to write a little something for them. I didn't want to get into continuing the fic because it requires way too much time I can't give atm so this is like a 'deleted scene' lolll, umm it's basically PWP. No, not even basically, it is lol. It fits probably some time between chapters 10 and 11 but the specifics aren't important. 
> 
> If you haven't read Amor it's a great monster of an AU and while you could read this fine without confusion without reading that first and I can't stop you, I'd rather you didn't. Meaning like - if you do plan to read the main fic that is - don't read this first. :)

The Doctor cannot deny that the empress immediately after training, still a little out of breath, flushed, dirty and covered in a layer of sweat doesn’t stir something inside him. Especially as she always looks so deliciously satisfied, stretching out her muscles with content sounding groans as he works to strip her of her armour.

He stands beside her in the tent in her training court now, unfastening the buckles that hold her left gauntlet in place as she drinks deeply from a goblet of water. He can hear her men outside filing out of the court, the noise of their footsteps, the rustle of armour and the banter between them fading as they leave and River sets down the empty cup, letting out a pleased sounding sigh and holding out her other wrist for him.

“You fought well, mistress,” He murmurs as he works and she nods, throwing him a smirk.

“Don’t I always?”

He can’t help but smile back at that. “Of course.”

“There’s nothing so satisfying as a good hard training session,” she says, voice breathy and sounding - like she says - satisfied. “Well - almost nothing.”

Her eyes gleam when he looks up and catches them and he fumbles with the buckle on the side of her breastplate, apologising when he unsnaps it too fast and the thing clatters to the floor. Her rich low chuckle sounds above him as he bends to pick it up, and when he straightens she is smirking as she pulls her arm across her chest, stretching it with the other and then rolling both shoulders back.

The Doctor clears his throat and ducks his head, moving to place her breastplate on the table with the rest of her armour.

“Shall I take this back to clean now?”

“No,” she says, and when he looks over at her in question she runs darkened eyes over his body. “Undress.”

He falters, caught off guard. “I - what?”

She leans forward a tad, eyes intent on his. “Undress,” she repeats, voice a low purr.

The Doctor sucks in a sharp breath as his eyes dart about nervously. “I - h - here, mistress!? Now?”

“Yes.” Her lips curve into the dangerous smirk of a predator. “Now. I’ve still some… _tension_ to work off.”

“But - uh - you - you’ve a meeting this afternoon and -”

“What?”

The word is a lowered warning, her eyebrows raised at his daring to question her demands, and the Doctor quickly ducks his head, chastised. “Nothing. I -” His hands flutter to the tie on his toga uncertainly, his eyes darting about the small tent.

“I’m waiting, slave.”

Fumbling, the Doctor hurriedly unfastens his toga and strips himself of it, standing before her bare and resisting the urge to cover himself with his hands as he silently prays to the gods that all of her men really had left the training court outside and nobody was going to stroll in unaware. The empress allows herself a moment to let her gaze trail over his form languidly, before she pulls her tunic over her head and shakes her curls out, a dangerous smirk on her lips.

He takes a moment to realise she means for him to approach, distracted by her skin, glistening with a layer of sweat from her training session, and when he does, he trips over her shield on the floor in his haste and the empress laughs, catching him easily when he falls into her. Looking at her sheepishly, the Doctor leans in to place an apologetic kiss on her mouth but River plants a hand on his chest, stopping him.

“Mistress?” He blinks at her.

She smirks. “Kneel.”

He does so eagerly, kneeling at her feet and curling his hands round her warm thighs. He notices that she is still wearing her boots although the rest of her body is now bare and a smile quirks at his lips at the sight. Gods, he is hard for her already as he leans in to place a lingering kiss to the inside of one thigh. River makes a noise, shifting her legs apart and winding a hand into his hair to tug him to her impatiently.

She is warm and wet; wet enough to slide into already and his fingers curl into her thighs at the discovery as he lets his tongue dive eagerly into her folds.

“Ohh, yes, I need this,” she moans.

“I can tell,” he murmurs against her, and River yanks sharply on his hair for his cheek.

He slides his tongue up and down the length of her a few times, opening her up to him before he focuses on her clit, swollen and slick and causing River to give those delightful shuddering gasps when he tongues at it.

“You were -  were watching me out there,” she pants above him as he works her with his mouth. “I saw you.”

“Of course I was,” he mumbles against her.

“You were watching me,” she repeats, a breathless laugh in her voice. “And thinking about fucking me.”

The gives him pause, and he lifts his eyes to hers before he resumes his mouth’s movements. She smirks down at him as she moans smugly and rocks her hips into his touch.

Getting a better grip on her thighs, the Doctor slides his tongue down through her slick folds and circles her entrance, delighting in her needy gasp. With one hand tight in his hair and the other on his shoulder for balance, the empress lifts a leg, settling her thigh over his shoulder and pressing the heel of her boot into his back to pull him even closer. He groans, eyes lifting to glance up at her as he pleasures her and he sees her throw her head back, her mouth open with a gasp, chest heaving and sweat gathering on her skin anew.

When he pushes his tongue inside her and licks at her inner walls, his nose nudging at her clit, her thighs begin to tremble, and his mouth is starting to ache but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care about anything except the magnificent woman above him and the fast impending moment she falls apart to his touch. He wants to draw it out; makes to pull out and lick teasingly back up through her folds but River holds him in place firmly, grinding shamelessly against his mouth as her cries grow in volume and her body tenses and shakes. He scrapes his teeth against her and she shouts, wobbling dangerously on her one leg and his hands fly to her backside to steady her. He holds her there firmly in place as he drives his tongue inside her once more and lets her grind her clit down against his nose and then she breaks, flying apart with cries of delight, fingers viciously tight in his hair, hips bucking into him and heel digging into his back until she’s ridden out her pleasure and she finally goes limp above him, panting for breath.

Placing a final kiss to her pulsing sex, feeling it quiver with aftershocks of her pleasure against his lips, the Doctor guides her leg down from his shoulder and stands, making sure to keep his arms round her for support. He is as out of breath as she as he leans in to place delirious kisses on her neck, having been somewhat deprived of oxygen as she’d held him against her. Not that he’d minded - that or the sting in his scalp and shoulders where she’d dug her nails in; something he knew well by now was that the empress could tend be rather rough in moments of passion. Surprisingly, it wasn’t something he finds he minded - in fact he’d even go so far as to say he enjoyed it.

He gasps when River slips a small warm hand down between them and wraps it round his rock hard length, stroking a thumb over him and smirking up into his face, and he feels his cock actually _throb_ in her grasp, a groan leaving his lips. She laughs, the sound low and seductive, and with him grasped firmly in her hand, begins walking backwards, leaving him no choice but to stumble along with her, mouth open at the pressure until they bump into the table where her armour and the jug of water sit. Letting go of him, River hoists herself up onto it and opens her legs, a clear invitation he does not miss, stepping eagerly forward between them and knocking the jug of water to the floor when she grabs hold of him again and he flails his hands out for balance on the table.

She pulls him to her with her other hand on the back of his neck for a fierce kiss, and with both of them more than ready, he pushes into her when she lines him up, sinking deep inside her and sighing into her mouth at the delicious feel of her warm wet heat enveloping him. He could die inside her he thinks; he would die a happy man.

The empress makes a pleased sounding hum, and when their lips part for air she lets her head drop back, eyes closing as her chest heaves. Her nails dig into his hips and he takes it as a signal for him to move, and pulls out enough to push back into her and draw another gasp from her.

“You’re wrong by the way, mistress,” he murmurs to her, making sure to keep his voice light and teasing so she doesn’t take offence over his words. Still her eyes narrow as she fixes them on his.

“About?”

“When I was watching you out there,” he nods his head towards the outside of the tent as his hips move in as slow and steady a rhythm as he can manage as River meets his every thrust. “I wasn’t thinking about fucking you.”

She raises an eyebrow at that, looking unamused and like she doesn’t believe him as she digs her nails sharply into his hips. “Oh really? And what were thinking about then?”

The Doctor drops his head to her shoulder, lips tracing over her collarbone as he moves inside her. “How beautiful you are.”

He feels and hears the empress inhale sharply and her movements still briefly.

“Tell me,” she breathes after a pause, rocking her hips back into his on his next thrust.

“You with a sword,” he murmurs between pants and soft grunts of pleasure. “I don’t understand why I like it so much but… you’re magnificent. You glow when you fight; you’re alive. You move like a dancer… but with the strength of ten men…” He bites down gently on her shoudler and she moans. “You never miss a step, you’re always ahead of your opponent and it’s incredible.” He turns his face to bury his nose in her curls, tangled and wild and sweat drenched but still beautiful - perhaps even more so for it. “And your hair,” he breathes, panting with the effort of maintaining the gentle pace. “It moves with you - around you like it has a life of its own but is also perfectly attuned to you… like it’s dancing around you, and with you at the same time -”

“Oh gods _shut up_ you great fool,” River finally huffs and he grins into her hair. “I wanted you to fuck me not write me bloody poetry.” Sliding her hands down his body, she digs her nails into his arse cheeks, hauling him into her hard and deep. “Now _fuck me_ properly, Ovid.”

She loved his words; he knows she did - he could feel how much she did in the way her inner walls clenched around him with every sentence, and the little hitch to her breathing at every adornment, and it is this knowledge that keeps him smiling into her hair as he obediently begins driving into her harder and faster.

The table wobbles and rocks and several pieces of her armour go clattering to the floor as they move increasingly harder and faster together but these are things which only flitter briefly through his consciousness before they are discarded by another cry from the empress, or a twist to her hips. He likes this; her up on the table and he between her legs - with his feet on the floor and the table for leverage, his hands gripping the edge either side of her he can drive into her deep and hard - to her evident delight, although the wobbling is a little distracting... there’s the large table in her chambers that’s certainly a lot sturdier than this one, he thinks, before he tells his brain to _shut up_ and concentrates on focusing on the glorious feel of her _now._

Arching against him, River digs her nails into his backside hard and the Doctor groans; it’s almost too much already, her so tight and hot and perfect around him and her glorious sweat-slicked body pressed against his own, her breathy cries and heavy breathing… he thinks about her out in the training court just outside, about her twirling and parrying and knocking down her opponents one by one - how she’d had the same gleam in her eye, the same flush to her skin as she has now as she’d fought and - gods, he _can’t -_

Pleasure builds at the base of his spine and his testicles begin to tighten as River urges him on and he tries to slow his movements, reaching a hand desperately between them to press against her but River _grunts_ and curls a leg round him to haul him deeper than ever, inner walls clenching around him and with a strangled cry he comes, hips jerking into her as he spills himself inside her.

He collapses against her, body heaving, and hears her huff and as soon as he can get words out he apologises over and over through gasps as he presses his forehead to her shoulder, eyes squeezed shut.

He feels her sigh again and smooth a hand down his back and when he lifts his head to look at her in question, his eyes wide and full of apology she rolls her own.

“Since you already gave me a very lovely one I’ll let you off this time sweetie.” She pushes him away, hopping off the table and moving over to scoop her tunic off the floor and pull it over her head.

“Let me -”

He reaches for her but she bats him away, pointing towards his toga on the floor.

“Forget it. Get dressed,” she orders, running fingers through her tangled curls as she moves towards the exit of the tent.

She shoots him a wink over her shoulder. “You can make it up to me later. Come.”

A grin creeping across his face, the Doctor scrambles to scoop up his toga, hauling it over his head as he hurries after his empress.

**Author's Note:**

> Also I may have written this as a little 'don't forget about this fic!!' aldkjlsad. May is a long way off I know but I promise when I can start writing it again it willll get completed and I am so grateful to you all for waiting. :)


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